In its way, the Mariner's trimaran is as much a featured performer as the actors. Dennis Gassner made sure it was equipped to reflect the nobility of the Mariner's heroism, while establishing his down-and-dirty ingenuity. "When I first saw the original Jeanneau racing trimaran I knew it was the perfect boat," recalled Gassner. "I said to Kevin Costner, 'This is wonderful, but I think we need to do something that's unique. You're our superhero and we want you to have toys to facilitate that.' I figured that one man sitting in a boat all day long would have a lot of time on his hands. beyond that, there must have been generations and generations of families that lived on the boat before him. I figured they were probably creative people who would have found inventive ways to facilitate their daily needs.

"I loved the Japanese 'Transformers' that were out a few years ago--those toys that could change from one kind of machine to another. I had little collections of them and have always been fascinated with seeing things that transform and become something else. I knew we needed to modify the trimaran in the same way. we decided the Mariner was basically a scavenger--he dealt with taking things off the bottom and reworking them or selling them. But how did he do that? We had to find a way to demonstrate his inventiveness. If the trimaran looked like a sleek sailing boat the whole time, that wouldn't have sold the idea. That's why we came up with the trawling mode as the answer. I turned to Peter Chesney and asked him, 'Can you do this physically?' And he said, 'Yes.'"

It had been decided that two trimarans would best accomplish the job--one to be used solely for sailing purposes, the other to serve both as the trawler and to perform the transformation sequence. For the trawling version, they came up with an eggbeater-style windmill rotor blade that would serve as a dredge under peaceful circumstances, while transforming into a sturdy mast when a quick getaway was indicated. They figured that the Mariner would have "kludged" together a windmill rotor that went through a gearbox to run a propeller, thus making it possible for him to trawl on the bottom of the ocean with some kind of strength--kludged being Waterworld lingo for reworking found objects into something new and useful. "The idea that drove the design work was that there was no stored energy in Waterworld," explained Chesney. "They didn't have big batteries, they didn't have fuel for engines, and there were no vacuum-packed flywheels--it was all wind energy. So we gave the Mariner geared-down power through the windmill; if he were to go slow and drag hard, he could really scoop stuff up from the bottom. The windmill rotor also gave him the power for the big winch in the back, as well as the power to run the little bit of electricity he did have. Also, the Mariner has had a lifetime to build and gadgetize, and with his ability to dive, he would have been able to find parts out of old machinery. For instance, the little gearbox in the back was an old Ford truck transmission. We actually drove the little electric motor and made the shift linkage work. The helm of the trimaran was designed to be both a steering and a crank helm, which also reflected the Mariner's inventiveness. Besides that, a standing position where he could spring into action was much more heroic than having him stuck at an ordinary wheel."

In the movie, the trimaran transforms from trawling to sailing mode when the Mariner moves quickly from stanchion to stanchion, flipping the switches that cause a remarkable chain of events. First, the eggbeater blades of the windmill fold into the mast, then the mast lengthens to twice it's height and the boom lifts from out of the deck with the sails unfurling quickly into position. It is an effect that appears to take about ten seconds, but one that, in reality, required considerably more time, effort, and planning--along with six people coordinating the choreography. Counterweight bags were placed up on the mast and then lowered to start the transformation process. Then the twenty-five-foot eggbeater-shaped rotor--which had been spinning at approximately fifteen revolutions per minute--stopped and collapsed. The delicate rotor blades were also expected to hold their shape at speed without bowing out too much, a consideration that caused the designers some concern. Likewise, because the rotor was structurally very thin, the designers were aware that a rotational twist might unceremoniously rip the ends off the blades. A composite engineer was hired to help determine a material that would provide both strength and flexibility. The solution was the same heat-cured high-grade epoxy fiberglass used in making top-quality hockey sticks.

*Excerpt from "THE MAKING OF WATERWORLD" by Janine Pourroy